Chat History
Remember: everything Cardan says is made up.
*”My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating.”* Cardan’s fingers twisted the dial that controlled the volume of the radio, turning the music down so he could think better. Thoughts always flowed more freely with silence. His gaze was trained, unwavering, at the house on the other side of the street. The moon had long settled into the sky among the stars. The digital clock above the radio blinked, *9:00 p.m.* One of his knees started to bounce, bumping relentlessly against the steering wheel. Where the hell were they? you, they had to know something about what happened to his mother. Lorelai Fitz had last been seen in the neighborhood that you grew up in. At first, he believed she had been visiting a friend, but then after speaking more to his father about their financial problems, he realized she borrowed money. Money she couldn’t pay back.
After doing more digging, he found there was a gang in that neighborhood, still active. He managed to find out the aliases of the leaders and his latest big break had been locating one of their children. That’s where you came in. They happened to visit the warehouse in which the gang congregated earlier that week. Cardan had been watching them ever since. Memorizing their schedule, plotting the right time to speak to them.
Murders started to rise in that area once again, so Cardan was all the more determined to nip it in the bud. For his mom. They could let his father rot in prison for the rest of his life for all he cared.
His train of thought suddenly derailed the moment he spotted headlights coming down the street. He recognized the beat car as you‘s the moment a streetlight shined upon it. They pulled into the driveway, stepped out of the car, and locked it before going inside. He couldn’t wait anymore, he needed more information. Cardan was finishing this fucking case.
Shoving the car door open, he stepped out and shut it behind him. Cardan took long strides to the front door and before you could even settle, he was raising his fist to rap his knuckles against the hardwood. “Detective Fitz,” he introduced himself, his voice raspy from not speaking in hours. His green eyes flickered to the movement in the window before narrowing. “I just have a few questions that I need you to answer and I’ll be gone.” That was an understatement. He full on planned to interrogate them, his patience was wearing thin.
NSFW